


Snowpocalyptic Situations

by TheSmutFaries



Series: Quickies [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, So much smut, cocoa, did we mention smut?, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmutFaries/pseuds/TheSmutFaries
Summary: Oh no a massive snow storm is sweeping through the town of Sleepy Hollow and Lt Abbie Mills is stuck out in the storm.  What happens when she takes shelter with a handsome stranger she's noticed around town more than a few times? And what happens when best selling author Ichabod Crane lets the tiny police lieutenant that inspired the lead character of his novels take shelter in his home during the storm?





	1. Bread Lovers Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> We are very happy to share this with all our lovelies. Also, check out this gorgeous picset made by the lovely nathyfaith!! She made it without knowing about this fic but it fits so beautifully: https://nathyfaith.tumblr.com/post/169483114418/lt-abbie-mills-gets-caught-out-in-a-winter-storm

When in town, he lived alone in his cabin and liked it that way. He liked it until he saw her. The petite woman who wore a sheriff's department uniform like a dream. Big dark eyes that reminded him of a Disney princess. A smile that did nothing to sway that image. Their eyes met at Mabie's Diner. He found himself looking away bashfully, then giving her a smile, which she returned.

He saw her around town several times. They exchanged glances and smiles. At the grocery store, he would leave as she came in or vice versa. He'd be inside a fast food restaurant and see her at the drive thru window. 

It was strange that in a town the size of Sleepy Hollow they exchanged glances so often. The town may be considerably small but it was by no means the sort of place one ran into the same person repeatedly unless it was ordained by fate.

Ichabod Crane was the sort of man who believed in fate. And this had fate writ all over it. He fancied sharing his home with her. Cuddling close to her on cold winter nights. However, he was also considerably shy when it came to approaching women.

The night things changed hadn't been any different. A huge winter storm was coming. He went to get supplies just in case he got snowed in. Grabbed a bite at Mabie's. She was there. As he sat there sipping coffee, he convinced himself to risk it and approach her. 

To at least introduce himself because there was never going to be a completely appropriate place to introduce himself. And if it fed into a cliche then so be it. There were far worse places to meet than a diner or a coffee shop.

He sucked in a breath and slipped from his seat. Their eyes met and he focused on her. Her dark eyes lit up and she smiled sweetly.

This would be the story he told their grandchildren someday. There was no shame in it. He swallowed hard and took a step forward and then another.

He was a mere few steps in his long journey when a voice came over her radio. Her eyes closed and she answered the radio. Then she and her aged partner went off to investigate a disturbance at a farm. He blinked and the pretty lieutenant had disappeared out the door and was on her way to the farm on the other side of town.

The fantasy of bouncing grandbabies on his knees faded as another opportunity slipped through his fingers.

He stood, dejected, mere steps from the abandoned table. That's when he caught a slip of paper next to the receipt. Her name - Abbie - and seven digits with a heart next to them.

He committed the numbers to memory and slipped the note into his pocket just in case. Though he was getting the impression it just wasn't meant to be. With a heavy sigh, he went back to his table to retrieve his coat and went to his vehicle to head home.

Alone.

~*~

_Not today,_ Abbie thought as she turned the key once more, just a little harder in case her car didn’t believe how badly she wanted to make it home and into the nice warm bath she had planned. 

It didn’t make a sound.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly, trying to gather her nerves before she pushed the button on the radio. 

“Anyone there?” she barked.

_“Abbie? You’re going in and out - what’s up?”_ Devon asked.

Abbie narrowed her eyes. He sounded warm. He sounded like he had coffee right next to him on the desk. 

He sounded unbothered by the damn _blizzard_ coming down around them. 

“I’m stuck,” she said carefully. “Damn cruiser broke down. Who can come get me?”

Devon snorted. 

_“Remember, you sent Luke and Felicia home. And since they’re both on call, they each took a cruiser.”_

_Of course they did,_ Abbie thought darkly. _Why_ wouldn’t _they follow departmental procedure?_

“Fine, have someone come get me in _my_ car, then,” she said. 

“ _Sure thing, Corbin’ll come by-_ ”

“No!” Abbie yelped. “I don’t want you bothering August, you hear me?” she growled into the radio. “The doctor said ‘no stress,’ and going out into a blizzard is as stressful as it gets.”

“ _I’ll ring for Morales and let you know. Over_.”

“Over,” Abbie grumbled, and ended the call. She zipped up her jacket and shivered. No way to get the heat going and the portable heater was in one of the other units. She could practically hear August’s voice telling her to make sure all the units had the required supplies.

She was going to do it on Monday. Not that plugable warmth would be any good in a vehicle with a dying battery. 

At least there was a blanket in the back seat. Abbie wrapped it around her, hunkered down into it until she couldn’t see over the folds, and tried not to count the seconds until the radio crackled.

“ _Mills_?”

Abbie reluctantly parted the blanket to grab the radio. 

“Yeah?”

“ _Reached Morales and he said he’d come get you but he’s snowed in himself. The town is getting pounded._ ”

Abbie groaned. 

“What about Felicia?”

“ _That’s the thing--she’s at the base of Forrest Run, and Highway Patrol says no one’s getting up there until the plow’s been through -_ ”

“Well, fuck,” Abbie mutters.

“- _And that won’t be until tomorrow morning. Sounds like you’re stuck. Are you prepped for overnight?_ ”

Abbie sighed heavily. She’s got an overnight bag from months ago she never bothered to take out of her vehicle, a few bottles of water that were more ice than water now, and a half-eaten box of Girl Scout cookies. 

She clutched the blanket around her shoulders tighter and gave up. 

“Yeah,” she said. “But I don’t know how much juice I have left on this radio - I think there’s something wrong with the battery.”

“ _Boss, I mean this with the most respect imaginable: you’re four foot nothing. If you try and stay in that car with a single blanket and a prayer…_ ” Devon trailed off. 

“I am five foot one inch, I’ll have you know,” Abbie grounded out. “And I am near the western woods - I’m going to see if there’s a cabin close by before nightfall.”

“Be careful, Abbie. August’ll kill all of us if you freeze to death,” Devon joked. 

“Roger that,” Abbie chuckled, and returned the mic to the holder on the radio. She took a good look around her and sighed. It was a winter wonderland outside the vehicle, and if she didn’t get some heat, it would be a winter wonderland inside as well.

“I should know better,” she said, kicking the door open before she could change her mind. The wind hit her skin like the righteous slap of a church elder and Abbie almost dove back into the car. It was only her own resolve that made her slam her door closed. She trudged to the trunk and grabbed her overnight bag and the frozen bottles of water for good measure.

As she walked around the car, she paused for a moment to debate getting back inside. But the snow was already almost halfway to the undercarriage. If she stayed overnight, odds were favorable she would be _that_ person. That person discovered after the roads were properly cleared and salted, frozen to death in their car.

Maybe she would be lucky and it wouldn't be long before she found some place to take shelter. Abbie inhaled deeply and shivered as she practically felt her breath freeze in her lungs. She'd be fine if it wasn't for the damnable wind. And damn her teeny tiny body for thinking it could warm up the fucking world on its own.

As luck would have it, the dusk allowed her to see the golden glow of light from a window after only a few steps. She hadn't noticed the cozy little cabin moments ago, snow layered upon it like it had come from a Kincaid painting. A steady stream of smoke curled from the chimney.

It was so inviting, Abbie could practically taste the hot cocoa. Or maybe she had bitten her tongue so hard she was bleeding. She would find out once she got thawed out. Maybe they had a phone she could use to call the station and let Devon know she found shelter.

The snow crunched underfoot, sinking into her sad excuses for snow boots and sending shivers up and down Abbie's spine. If she moved too fast, her lungs began to burn from the exertion of trying to provide her oxygen and her body trying to keep her warm. If she moved too slow, the cold started trying to creep in and take hold.

Finally, she’d found a pace that kept her warm but didn't take her breath. She was pretty sure she had looked like a drunk zombie, staggering towards the house. 

She reached the tidily swept, porch-covered steps that led up to a porch that had been lined with a tarp to keep snow at bay.

A sizable stack of wood rested against the side of the cabin under a window that had the curtains drawn. Oh, she just knew, without a doubt, it was going to be nice and toasty inside.

She raised her fist and knocked just next to the tinsel wreath on the door. 

Then she waited.

~*~

Ichabod Crane knew his generator would be running out in a few hours, and with it, any hope of having the comfort of electric heat until power was restored. He gathered as many blocks of wood from the shed as he could carry and started toward the cabin for the fourth time. He would probably need at least two more trips to have enough wood to last until morning.

He had been using a wheelbarrow, but the snow had become too deep to use it any longer.

He probably should have filled a few gas cans whilst he had been in town earlier. In fact, he had taken a few with him. But he had… forgotten. Imagine. A man with an eidetic memory _forgot_ something. Forgot something somewhat vital at that.

But, that's why the gods provided trees and axes. If it was good enough for his ancestors, it was good enough for him. He kept a good supply of wood, at any rate. He’d arrived in early autumn and had set to chopping enough wood for the winter. Now, he was reaping the benefits of his hard work.

While he had been chopping up all the wood, it had occurred to him that he should be working on his latest novel. But if there was one thing any writer was good at, other than their craft, it was procrastinating. Besides, survival was a very important factor for success in most careers. So it hadn't so much been procrastinating as it was assuring he could be successful in his writing.

As Ichabod approached the cabin, he noticed a lone figure staggering towards the structure. His eyes drifted around, wondering if it was a camper who had gotten lost out in the woods. He spotted a vehicle through the trees, topped with red and blue lights. 

The police? What could possibly be wrong that the police were at his home? Was there a mandatory evacuation? 

The figure climbed his steps and knocked on the door. Ichabod made it to the steps in no time at all, despite the whip of the wind. He pushed back the hood of his coat.

“May I help you?” he asked, voice still somewhat strained from the cold. 

The figure started slightly and turned toward him.

“I'm…” a soft, feminine voice reached his ears like a gentle melody. “Oh!”

Ichabod blinked in surprise as a familiar face peered out at him from underneath layers of heavy coat, scarf, and trapper hat. They stared at each other in surprise for a long moment, only for a strong gust of wind to rip through his tarp barrier.

He shook his head to clear it and hurried forward to open the door. 

“Please, come inside, officer. I will be with you momentarily.”

Once she was inside, Ichabod hurriedly set the wood he was carrying onto the stack he’d already assembled. He then returned the tarp to the waiting hooks around the porch, to keep the wood dry and his porch free of snow.

His heart thrumming heavily in his chest suddenly had naught to do with the cold. What was she doing here? Had she known this was his home?

_That was nonsense._

She didn't even know his name, as far as he was aware. Much less where he lived. He didn't make a habit of interacting with the “townies” when he came to his family's cabin to write. Most of the time he went unnoticed, except for the flirtatious glances he had shared with the woman standing inside his home.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the cabin and removed his coat and gloves. The little voice in his head sing-songed _fate, fate, fate._

“Forgive me, Officer,” he murmured, hanging his coat up next to the door. He stuffed his gloves in the pocket, then ran his fingers through his hair to try and make himself presentable. “May I interest you in a warm beverage? May I take your coat?”

She stared at him with a small smile on her wind-dried lips then looked down at her coat before starting to remove it. 

“Oh! Yes. Thank you,” she said, letting him help her remove her coat, scarf and hat. Ichabod felt his heart dance as he hung her items up next to his. “Yes to the drink too,” she added with a small laugh. “The wind out there is _terrible._ ”

She laid a bag underneath the coats and fluffed her hair. Ichabod glanced toward her then away again when he realized he was staring at her curvaceous figure as she stretched. He was ninety-eight percent certain a standard issue uniform was not supposed to look _that_ flattering.

 

“Would you care for coffee, tea, or cocoa?” Ichabod asked. _My eternal love and devotion_?

The lovely officer's eyes lit up and she smiled brightly. “Cocoa? If it's… not too much trouble?”

Ichabod gazed at her a moment, a dumb smile on his own lips. 

“If it were trouble, I wouldn't have offered,” he said lightly. “I had some cooking up and it was nearly ready just before I went out to get more firewood.”

He grabbed a couple of oven mitts and hurried over to the fireplace to remove one of three cast iron pots from the hooks hanging over the fire. The other two were soup for dinner and hot water. 

All three were big enough to accommodate servings enough for a small army. He usually didn't make a habit of making enough for two, but tonight he had felt a desire to do so. _Just in case_ is what he kept telling himself. _Just in case_ had been why he had gone into town and gotten extra supplies. 

“Just in case” indeed.

He carried the pot to the kitchen counter and rested it atop a heat resistant pad. As he stirred the fresh cocoa with a ladle, the lovely officer retrieved two mugs from the hooks over the sink. Normally he only kept one, but for some reason he had cleaned up two that morning.

Had he been secretly hoping someone would visit?

“My car stalled,” the pretty officer said. “And they said they probably couldn't get help out here until morning.”

Ichabod ladled cocoa into both of the mugs. 

“How very unfortunate,” he said. 

“I was hopeful, when I saw this cabin, I could… get shelter for the night.” She looked away and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Most certainly,” Ichabod replied. “I wouldn't dream of turning away an officer of the law.” He slid a cup in front of her. “Especially one as lovely as you.”

_Shit_. He had said that last part out loud without meaning to. He felt his face flush as her dark eyes flashed up at him. She sipped at the cocoa. Her eyes fluttered closed and she made a small delighted sound.

“This is delicious,” she said. She held out her hand. “Abbie Mills, by the way.”

Ichabod gently caught her fingers and bowed over her hand. He heard her gasp softly. He glanced up to see her biting her bottom lip shyly.

“Ichabod Crane. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Mills.”

Abbie licked her lips gently as he released her hand. Ichabod sipped at his own mug of cocoa. She was right. It was delicious. He was also glad she had introduced herself because he had been so close to accidentally saying something disgusting like _I'm certain you are delicious_.

“I am afraid the power is out and I've only a meager generator with limited life,” Ichabod said. “I would like to offer my facilities so that you may have a warm bath or shower before the generator cuts out. If we get trapped in for a day or two, without hot water…”

Abbie nodded gently. 

“Understood. So are we talking minutes or hours?”

“Plenty of time for you to finish your drink,” he replied. “We have about four hours as long as we don't use too much electric.”

Abbie fluttered her lashes as she sipped idly. 

“That's a lot of time to enjoy the warmth.”

“And then once it goes out, plenty of time to keep each other warm,” Ichabod murmured into his cup before sipping his drink. 

Abbie's brows arched, indicating she had heard the comment despite his trying to keep her from doing so. Her lips twisted into an alluring smirk. She didn't admonish him or tense up. Everything about her body language said she didn't object to that likelihood. Abbie stepped closer and opened her mouth to speak. Instead of a flirtatious comment, she suddenly pulled a face and swore. 

“Sorry… I forgot… do you have a phone? I don't have service with my cell and… I need to call Devon to let him know I found shelter for the night.”

Ichabod felt his heart sink a little. Of course she had a lover. To be fair, he would have been more shocked if she hadn't. A woman as beautiful as she surely had no end to her line of suitors, both man and woman alike.

“Devon is… one of my fellow officers,” she amended quickly. “Not a… I'm not currently… involved with… anyone.” She laughed nervously, tucked her hair behind her ear, then hid her face behind a draught from her mug. “I don't know why I… why I told you that…”

The sinking feeling that had been settling into Ichabod's heart suddenly lightened. 

“Oh, well then,” he said with a soft laugh. “It is the same for me.” He blushed lightly. “Neither do I know why I told you.”

They both knew damn well why they were letting the other know they were single. They held each other's gaze. Ichabod shook his head to clear it. 

“Oh! Phone… right…”

He trotted to his bedroom, his gaze falling to tangled blankets and the solitary magazine on his pillow as he picked up the cordless phone off the cradle. It wasn't a pornographic magazine, thank you very much, he had no need for such with an eidetic memory. It was one of the few literary magazines he read that still sold hard copies in the airports.

It was too much to hope that he would not be alone in the bed tonight.

Actually, Abbie would be alone in it. He would be on the sofa. Perhaps while she took her bath, he would change the sheets so she would have a fresh bed to sleep in…

Ichabod took the phone out to Abbie and handed it over with a small puff of his chest. 

“A phone for my lady.”

The luminous grin that spread over her lips made his brain start running around squealing gleefully. She set down her mug and took the phone with a small curtsey. 

“Thank you, kind sir.”

He watched her step away to make her call. He smirked and sipped his cocoa as she leaned on the counter, her perfect backside jutted in his direction. 

Perhaps it wouldn't be completely off the table for both of them to be occupying his bed tonight. The bedroom would be very cold without proper heating. It did make more sense for them to share their warmth… naked. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he warmed her up from the inside.

_Down boy_ , he admonished himself as he licked his lips.

Although, in all seriousness, how did she manage to achieve such a perfect bottom? He was fairly certain perfection of that caliber was reserved for divine beings and women with sugar daddies who paid big money for it.

He was still staring when she looked over her shoulder. She turned on her heels as she hit the button to end the call. 

“I thought I recognized your name,” she said. 

Ichabod met her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“You're that writer Corbin goes on about,” Abbie said. “You had a bad acid trip a couple years ago and thought a headless Hessian soldier was chasing you.”

“Oh, dear God,” Ichabod groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose. _No, no, no, anything but that_. He could feel his chances slipping through his fingertips. “In my defense…”

“Your friend slipped it in your drink,” Abbie finished. “I know. Andrew regales us with it every year at the Christmas party.”

“And you are the first guest I've had here since,” Ichabod stated.

“It happens,” Abbie said with a cute smile. “I won't hold it against you. You write those supernatural police novels. The… Diana Fyne series. I love those.” Her eyes roamed over him slowly. “Not exactly what I had in mind for the author.”

Ichabod smiled indulgently. 

“Let me guess,” he drawled. “Bad skin, aversion to sunlight and a bit of paunch?”

Abbie bit back a laugh. 

“Something along those lines,” she admits.

“Well, I tend to get my best ideas whilst out in nature and I attack writer’s block by taking axe to tree. It has spared me the worst effects of my sedentary occupation, though when I was a lad my skin was positively hideous, if that helps any.” Ichabod grinned. 

“Actually… I was half-expecting I. Crane to be a woman using a man's name to get her stuff noticed,” Abbie purred. “You don't do that weird male author thing where you talk about nipples getting erect just because Diana decided pull on a blouse.” 

Ichabod felt his face warm. Abbie's eyes widened.

“Now when you _do_ talk about female anatomy, it's always in an appropriate moment,” she amended. “When Jake or Hank or Lizzy or whomever is enraptured by Diana and has her up against a wall… _that's_ appropriate. And _hot_. Which, kudos on not killing Lizzy off.”

Ichabod's gaze drifted down her body. He wasn't about to admit it, but he had been inspired to write Diana Fyne after seeing her in town a few times. His agent had been taken aback by the fact he had wanted to do a new series with a black female lead. But, as a black woman herself, Angelina had sat patiently and listened to his pitch about a small town police officer that investigated supernatural happenings.

Then she said she was going to keep a close eye on it while he wrote. Afterward, he had plopped the entire first draft of part one in front of her. She had blinked at him like it had been the last thing she had expected during their meeting.

She had liked Diana Fyne. She had liked the supernatural elements. It had been a workable first draft and she gave it to Charlotte immediately for editing.

She had simply sipped her coffee and said, “they're good” when he got the nerve to ask what she thought of the sexual content. And she wouldn't look at him in the eye and quickly changed the subject.

Of course Diana had been based on just his own idea of what the pretty police officer might be like. So far she hadn't ruined anything in his head. And if she did, it was his own fault for making assumptions.

He watched her as she finished off her cocoa and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her finger. Abbie cast a glance down at the floor as she laughed softly. 

“That has to be the best cocoa I've had in awhile,” she said, looking back up at him. “I suppose I should get that hot bath before the generator runs out.”

“Allow me to help you,” Ichabod said gently. It took two entire seconds for him to shake his head clear and finish his statement. “Find the facilities. Allow me to help you find everything…”

Abbie's lips curled mischievously at both corners. Ichabod was now imagining helping her bathe--from innocently kneeling next to the bath, scrubbing her back, to being in the bath with her--but there was definitely nothing clean occuring. 

“Sure thing,” she replied. “Just let me grab my bag…”

Ichabod bobbed his head and watched her walk over to retrieve her bag, finishing off his own drink. 

_This was going to be a long night._

~*~

The tub was very obviously made to accommodate two people or one really tall person. Abbie had her head laid back against the side of the copper tub, a hand towel rolled up behind her neck for support. The smell of the lavender bubble bath tickled her nose.

She felt absolutely spoiled.

It was like heaven had put her on a low simmer. The warmth was slowly sinking into her bones and dispelling the chill that had started to take up residence. 

If this was the reality of country living she was ready to sign the hell up. Especially if she was going to cuddling up with the man that could make some bitchin cocoa.

Was she, though? 

_Slow your roll_ , Abbie grumbled to herself. She just formally met the man, though they’ve been running into each other all over Sleepy Hollow for the better part of three years. Each encounter had left Abbie intrigued enough about the man, but not intrigued enough to do something about it. 

Now it seems the universe plopped him and his warm cabin and sinful bathtub right in her lap for the cuddling.

Hell, cuddling is probably the _least_ she could do. It would only be good manners at this point, she figured. Practically community outreach, something August was always harping on as an important part of good police work. 

Abbie watched her toes break through the water and smiled. 

“You a ho, Abbie Mills,” she muttered to herself, and laughed, temporarily floating. 

She bathed in peace, revelling in the warmth for almost an hour before she heard a gentle knock at the door. Abbie sat up, snapped from her mental meandering.

“I'm okay!” she called out.

“I was simply wishing to ask if you had a preference for white or wheat bread, Miss Mills,” Ichabod asked through the door. “To accompany dinner.”

The cogs in Abbie's head struggled to process the inquiry. 

“Um… Doesn't matter. I love bread,” she responded then sighed into her palm. _What the fuck, Mills. 'I love bread’. Geesh._

She pulled herself to standing, holding onto the wall for support. Her limbs were so relaxed they wobbled under her weight. 

Abbie scoffed. 

“ _I love bread,_ ” she grumbled, making her way over to the counter to wrap herself with the warm towel waiting for her. “ _I love bread_. The fuck…” she threw her hands into the air and gave her reflection an incredulous look.

She sighed and unzipped her bag. 

“Yeah, this won't work,” she muttered. With another heavy sigh, Abbie slipped on a pair of fuzzy slippers that had been in the towel closet. Glancing at her reflection, clad in only a towel and slippers, she figured there could worse ways to see just how proper her host's manners were.

Abbie flung the bathroom door open and stalked out.

~*~

Ichabod looked up when he heard the bathroom door open. His jaw immediately dropped and he felt all of his blood run to between his legs. He could practically imagine the little platelets with little flailing arms, shrieking with delight as they slipped down that slippery slope.

Apparently every part of his body was really excited Officer Abbie Mills was in his home. It was ecstatic now that she was clad in nary more than a towel and guest slippers. Good lord, she was beautiful. Her skin held a soft golden glow from the firelight, contrasted by the fluffy white material wrapped around her body.

She walked right over to stand next to him at the counter and looked up at him. The moment her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, he knew she could have whatever she wanted.

“Okay, so,” she said quietly, looking away. “Apparently that bag was from the dog days of summer so, if it's not an imposition, do you have something warm I can sleep in?”

“My bed,” Ichabod squeaked, then quickly added, “--room. In my bedroom. Just… permit me… a…” He hurried to his room and plundered through his chest of drawers until he found one of his flannel shirts. “Here we are…”

He stepped out into the main area of the cabin and felt his mouth go dry. Abbie had perched herself on the small island, legs crossed daintily. She smiled as he approached her. He wasn't sure why, when confronted by a beautiful woman he turned into a stammering imbecile.

It wasn't that he hadn't experience with women. It was that generally, in the past few years, women had just foisted themselves into his lap. Always eager to get close to someone with even a small amount of fame. Most only wanted to know what was going on in his next book.

But something told him Abbie wouldn't be the foisting type. She would make him come to her. Oh, and he would. Just as soon as he could get himself to stop acting like a giggling schoolgirl Every time she--

Her lips curled mischievously.

\--every time she did that.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she met his gaze. Abbie took the shirt from him. 

“So what are you making?”

“Bread,” he replied softly. 

Her brows arched. 

“Freshly baked bread,” she hummed. “Can I help? I've always wanted to learn to make my own.”

Ichabod bobbed his head gently. “Certainly.”

She slipped off the counter, squeaking softly when she almost lost the towel in the process. Thankfully - or regretfully depending on how one looked at it - she caught it before he saw anything more than a sliver of brown hip.

She grinned impishly and scurried back into the bathroom, Ichabod watching her the entire time.

What was he doing? Right. Bread. He had been making bread. Wait… she had wanted to help.

Ichabod sucked in a deep breath to clear his head. He seriously had to get it together. She hadn't even said with words that she was remotely interested in him. Yes, she had pointed out she was single and had flirted quite openly. But did that translate to her wanting him to take her like a prized spoil of war?

A spoil of war that was beautiful, with a smile that warmed him from the inside, and had a sinfully curvaceous figure. Just as the irritating little voice in the back of his head crowed, “ _I'd like to warm_ her _from the inside_!” The bathroom door opened again and Abbie stepped out.

Good Lord. That was almost as bad as the towel. Actually, in some ways it was worse.

She still wore the slippers. His shirt hung on her, overly large, swallowing her. The top three buttons were left unbuttoned and the neckline teetered dangerously close to falling off her shoulder. The bottom of the shirt hung to her knees. She needed only wear a belt and it could be a dress for her.

Ichabod blinked and shook his head again. 

“Will you require a small step stool?” he asked dumbly. She narrowed her eyes at him in challenge. “I have one if you do. The prep area was, unfortunately custom made for myself… Most of my friends and family require something to compensate when they stay here.”

“You must be the tall one of the family,” Abbie commented.

“My brother is almost an entire head taller than I,” Ichabod said with a smile.

Abbie sucked in a breath. 

“Oh, good Lord.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Sure. I'll take the step stool.”

Ichabod quickly retrieved the stool from the cupboard and set it on the floor, in front of the bowl he had been starting to prepare his bread. He offered his hand and Abbie gave him _that smile_ \- the one she had been giving him for the past few years across Mabie's - as she took his hand and stepped up.

“We shall need to roll up your sleeves…” Ichabod said. “May I?”

Abbie grinned and held her arm out. “Knock yourself out.”

She watched as he deftly unbuttoned the cuffs then neatly folded them up to her elbows. His fingers danced over her skin, enjoying the softness under his fingertips. He had certainly gotten that correct about her. His eyes roamed over the exposed span of skin at the neckline.

In no time at all he had the other rolled up. Abbie turned around to face the bowl and wiggled her fingers, excitedly shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Let's do this,” she beamed.

Ichabod swallowed hard as he realized, all too late, how intimate this was going to be. He stepped up and reached his arms around Abbie's waist. 

“All this is, is warm water, sugar, and yeast,” he murmured close to her ear.

She sucked in a breath and made a soft sound of acknowledgement. 

“So when do we get to the fun part?” Abbie asked, her voice low and sultry.

“Soon enough. We need one and a half teaspoon of salt, a fourth cup of oil, and three cups of flour added in,” Ichabod instructed, his hands coming to a rest on her waist. He swallowed again as his hands practically encircled her midsection.

Abbie jutted her backside against him and swayed her hips gently as she carefully measured out the salt and oil in turn then deposited them in the water and yeast mix.

“Won't the oven use up a lot of the power?” Abbie asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

“We're baking it over the fire,” he said, nodding toward the large fireplace.

“You're a regular survivor guy,” Abbie chuckled, rubbing her ass back against him again.

“When I'm in town I act as the cook for the reenactment group,” he said. “So it's something I'm actually accustomed to.”

Abbie continued on to measuring out the flour. Ichabod wasn't sure if her gentle gyrations were intentional or if they were accidental. She honestly didn't seem capable of standing still.

Ichabod spread a handful of flour on the counter as she added a little more flour and stirred it in. He reached around Abbie's waist and lightly pinched the dough they had whipped up. 

“It sticks but isn't _sticky,_ ” he murmured. “It's time for next step… kneading.”

He picked up the bowl and Abbie rolled the dough out into the floury counter. Ichabod tried not to pay attention to how utterly divine she smelled. 

Clasping his fingers around hers, Ichabod guided her hands to the edges of the dough. 

“A little shaping,” he said in her ear as he patted her fingers around the edges of the dough until it was a lovely roundish blob. “Then pull it toward you a little… tuck your fingers under the side furthest from you… then fold it over like so… and…”

He gently grasped her wrists and pressed the heels of her palms down and pushed away from himself and Abbie. The movement also pressed his body flush against hers. She made a soft sound and rubbed back against him.

“So… like this?” Abbie asked, folding the dough over. She raised onto her toes and gave the dough a gentle knead, her backside rubbing against Ichabod’s front.

“Close,” he said, his voice a low rumble that made Abbie shiver. He reached around her again, stepping close enough to pin her hips against the counter. Ichabod demonstrated again and nuzzled his nose behind her ear. “Deep strokes. Slow and strong. Make sure you're good and _in there_.”

The last two words came out like a deep, throaty growl. He ground against her and she could feel the generous lump pressed against her ass. He was definitely wanting the same thing she was wanting.

Abbie whimpered softly then whispered, “Oh, Jesus.” She made another helpless sound when he stepped away. Abbie had no idea making bread could get so sexy. 

She shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck when she heard water running. Taking a deep breath, she reined in her hormones and concentrated on kneading the dough.

“Oh, you have a little… flour…” she heard Ichabod say once the water cut off. A scratchy towel dabbed at her neck where she had just rubbed. “And an especially vagrant bit right…”

Her knees went weak when she felt his lips at the sensitive juncture at the base of her throat. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned softly, temporarily forgetting what she was doing. 

His hands were warm on her thighs as they slipped up under the shirt, to grab her ass. 

“Is this alright?” he asked gently, then lightly nibbled her shoulder.

Abbie nodded, her eyes drifting closed. “Mmhmm…” 

“You can tell me to stop if you wish,” he breathed against her skin before giving it another little love bite.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Abbie gasped, her fingers squeezing something warm and pliant. 

“There needs to be at least three more minutes of kneading,” he said with a filthy chuckle. 

“Hmm!” _Right. The bread_. Abbie focused on the task instead of strangling the dough like she had just done. Focusing being considerably harder as Ichabod's lips and teeth grazed their way to the back of her neck. 

“You're not wearing any undergarments,” he purred, his hands stroking the entirety of her ass and skimming her thighs.

Abbie laughed breathlessly. 

“Didn't exactly go with this outfit,” she teased. “Do you make a habit of… seducing girls with your bread making skills?”

“I believe you're the first,” he replied. “And the only one that ever will be.”

Ichabod wondered at this point if she was going to be like others who had seduced him in the past. Would she, too, want to leave and never speak another word to him come morning? Would she leave him wounded and heartbroken? Would she shrug and say it had been fun and skip from his life forever?

He told himself she would be different. That the past he had always imagined, if he had ever gotten the nerve to approach her, that he would do his best to make her happy. 

“I was starting to worry you didn’t like me,” Abbie teased. She looked at the mangled bread dough. “I think I killed the bre--aaayyeee… _YES_!”

She shoved both hands right down the middle of the loaf as she felt a long, thick finger push inside of her. Abbie cried out softly and stood on her toes, pushing back against Ichabod's hand.

“My dear, you are soaking wet,” Ichabod groaned, using long, gentle strokes to coax more of Abbie’s nectar forth. He twisted his fingers as he added a third and gasped as she flexed her perfect backside and his hand became coated to the wrist. 

“Oh, fuck,” Abbie groaned, her hands mindlessly tearing the dough as she widened her stance, desperately riding Ichabod’s hand. If he could make her come with just his fingers, she shuddered to think what he could do with his cock.

“Abbie,” Ichabod moaned, mouthing a hot kiss to the apple of her ass. “Do you wish to come like this? On my hand?” he asked, punctuating the choice with a hard thrust into her wet heat. Her warbling cry of passion went straight to his dick and he palmed himself with a hiss as he picked up the pace.

Abbie tossed her head, working her hips and trying not to be embarrassed at how _wet_ Ichabod’s fingers sounded in the relative silence of the cabin. Suddenly she screamed - Ichabod took both his hands to her ass and spread her open before she felt his mouth on her clit. 

“Fuck, yes,” she sobbed, the bread dough a distant memory as she pushed it away to hold on to the counter so she could better push back against his questing tongue. 

_I could die happy like this_ , Ichabod thought as he attempted to gorge himself between Abbie’s thighs. He filled his hands with her ass and squeezed decadently, reverently. 

Abbie tried not to think about the loud noises the near silence made so beautifully obvious. Every soft murmur, every gentle smack of Ichabod's lips was amplified and seemed to reverberate through the cabin. She gasped and slapped her hand against the counter as he groaned and wrapped his arms around her thighs, drawing her legs over his shoulders. He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his face all up in her pussy, like he was hell bent on eating her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner… and maybe brunch too.

He pulled his head back to draw in a fresh breath. Abbie thought maybe he was finished with _that_. But she had thought wrong. She had thought very wrong indeed.

As soon as he took a second breath, he dove right back in. Small growl-like sounds vibrated against her clit as he sucked hard. Abbie's eyes rolled back in her head, her legs curling back as she felt the tension make her body shudder and quake. She gasped for breath rapidly and then it felt like her entire being imploded.


	2. Larger than life

She distinctly recalled the events up until she lost consciousness. What she couldn't clearly recall was why her throat was so damn sore or how she came to be wrapped up in a quilt on a pallet of pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace.

Abbie blinked quietly as she watched Ichabod tend to the fire and pull one of the cast iron pots off the hooks to taste the contents. Her walls clenched and quivered as she watched him, obviously remembering what had transpired. Or had she fallen asleep and dreamt it all?

Did she freeze to death in the car and this was some kind of Heaven for her?

“Mmm, perfect,” she heard Ichabod whisper, then he hung the pot back up. He reached to a pan sat upon some embers, then pulled his hand back with a swear. “Almost done…”

He shivered, rubbed his arms, then breathed into his cupped hands. Ichabod stood quickly and hurried off. A few moments later, he knelt down next to her and she felt the weight of another blanket come down atop her. Abbie tilted her head in his direction and smiled.

“Hey, you,” she murmured.

Ichabod peered down at her then grinned widely. 

“I was wondering when you would wake again,” he said softly. “The generator went out about a half hour ago. Dinner is almost done.”

“I thought I was dreaming everything up until now,” Abbie commented.

“You've been resting for nearly three hours,” Ichabod pointed out. He stretched out next to the mound of blankets and propped up on one elbow. “To be honest, I initially feared I had given you so much pleasure, you perished.”

“What a way to go, though,” she muttered, stretching hard enough to momentarily go boneless. She flopped uselessly against the pallet, though she had no idea how she managed that considering she was already laying down. But manage it, she had. “How'd the bread turn out?”

Ichabod's eyes glimmered with amusement. 

“It was unusable. I had to start over,” he said, reaching over to brush her hair behind her ear with the backs of his fingers. “Are you alright?”

“I'd be better if you were under these blankets with me,” she said softly.

“As much as I would revel in joining you,” Ichabod replied. “We need to eat to keep up our strength until power is restored. _Then_ we can occupy our time with activities under the blankets.”

“Hmm,” Abbie scoffed with amusement. “Tease.”

He leaned close and brushed his lips over hers then grinned like the Cheshire Cat himself. 

“You've only had a taste of the teasing I am capable of.”

Abbie shivered with anticipation. “I look forward to see what else you've got.”

~*~

“ _Eeeeee, cold cold cold_.” 

Ichabod looked up when he heard Abbie's little squeal from the bathroom. He chuckled and shook his head before dousing a hunk of bread into his bowl of stew and shoving it into his mouth. 

They were both on their second helpings. It was perfect for warming them up in the unforgiving cold. His studies into colonial America and the revolutionary war had led him to what kind of foods were good for rough winters. 

Miss Hill at the Farmers market had a fantastic Guinness Beef Stew recipe in the book she sold at her stand. It was thick and hearty and settled nicely in the belly, warming from the inside.

They had spent the last hour getting to know each other. Abbie had been with Westchester County Sheriff's Department for ten years. She had a sister, Jenny. The Sheriff was a bit like a father to her.

He told her about how he had met his agent, Angelina, when they had been both pursuing the same woman in college. Said woman was now Angelina's wife and his editor. He told her how most of the unsuspecting victims in his books were based off of women that had seduced him and broken his heart.

A string of f-bombs being dropped brought his attention to the petite woman squealing her way toward him. Her arms waved like flannel-clad wings as she pranced across the room on her toes. She stopped as soon as her feet were on the pallet, tilting her head.

“What? You think it's funny I'm freezing my ass off? Literally,” Abbie teased, sinking down to her knees. She shuffled her way under the blankets and scooted back to his side.

Ichabod poked her nose. “You're adorable.” 

Abbie flailed and threw herself sideways, covering her face with her arms. 

“Don't touch me!”

Her current position offered a very tantalizing view of the warm, brown thighs he had buried his face between earlier. He licked his lips and set his bowl next to hers on the end table next to the sofa.

“Are you certain you don't want me to touch you?” he purred, crawling to brace himself over her semi-prone form.

Abbie lowered her arms and peered over her shoulder. “That depends, who wants to know?”

Ichabod pressed his groin against the curve of her ass. 

“A friend,” he teased.

Abbie's eyes widened and she gasped softly, turning fully onto her back to stare up at him. 

“Is this where you point out we can keep warmer if we take off our clothes?” Her fingers crept up the front of his shirt and grasped his collar.

“You're evading my inquiry,” Ichabod commented. He plucked the buttons of her shirt open one-by-one then spread it open.

Abbie gasped again and shivered. “It's fucking cold,” she hissed. 

“I could warm you up if you'd like,” Ichabod replied. Her eyes fluttered closed and she writhed underneath the gentle stroke of his fingertips down her body.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Keep talking.”

Ichabod leaned down and caught her lips as his fingers found her warm, damp opening. Suddenly Abbie pushed his chest, “Wait.”

He froze and pulled his hand away, then settled back to where he had been seated. Abbie scrambled to sitting up. She didn't move to button the shirt, instead let it slide down her arms.

“Sorry…” she sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just realized I don't know if I'll have access to my birth control pills tomorrow and… you're apparently an accidental hoe…”

Ichabod snorted and chuckled. 

“Accidental hoe,” he said experimentally. “I like it. You haven't any need to apologize nor explain, Abigail.”

“I didn't exactly prepare for… sex,” Abbie finished lamely. She pursed her lips as he handed her her bowl of stew to finish. Most guys didn't give up that easily. They wanted to know _why_ she said to stop and often tried to keep going anyway.

Until they realized she could restrain them with surprising ease for a girl her size.

Ichabod arched a brow as he started finishing his own bowl. 

“If the concern is prophylactics, I have plenty in my bedroom.” 

Abbie gave him a doubting look so he set his bowl aside again and extracted himself from the mound of blankets. Ichabod went to his room and retrieved the industrial sized box from his chest of drawers. He checked the date and, yes, they were still good.

His editor, Charlotte, made sure to throw a box at his head every time he mentioned going on retreat somewhere. Mostly because odds were favorable he would end up getting accosted by a fan or three, regardless of his best intentions.

“Wow, expect to get laid much?” Abbie laughed as he walked out of his room.

“I always make certain I am prepared for anything,” he preened. His eyes roamed over her, still half-naked, not having fixed the shirt yet. Her dark eyes shimmered in the light of the fire. Her thighs were gently parted in invitation. He handed the box over to her for her appraisal.

Abbie turned the box over in her hands then looked him over. 

“XL, huh?” she asked, her voice dropping to a seductively deep timber. She removed a few from the box and placed the box on the sofa. The ones she had removed were placed on the blankets before she crooked her finger at him. “C’mere, Baby. I want to see for myself.”

Ichabod took a step toward Abbie and paused as he gazed upon the perfection before him. It wasn't just Abbie. It was everything. The fire, the snow, the cold, the way the firelight glowed on Abbie's skin, the blankets… everything. 

It was so perfect he wondered if _he_ was the one dreaming. Was he laying before his fire, shivering from the cold, in a catatonic state, dreaming of the beautiful maiden spread out before him?

He watched her breasts rise and fall as she watched him, watching her. Her eyes darted away and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. He watched self-consciousness creep onto her face and she moved to pull the shirt back on properly.

“If you don't want -” she started.

Ichabod held up a hand. 

“I want to,” he said softly. “I just… I was disbelieving that you are real and here. I needed a moment.” He knelt down and traced the back of his fingers over the apple of her cheek.

Abbie smiled shyly then met his eyes with her own impossibly wide ones. “You're a little overdressed, Ichabod Crane.”

He straddled her knees and pulled her face to his so he could kiss her properly. 

“Let us remedy this situation,” he murmured against her lips, already feeling her deft fingers tugging his sweater upward.

Abbie paused briefly at the waistline of his pajama pants. Her pretty mouth bowed into a wicked smirk as her palm stroked over the protrusion there. 

“All of this for little old me?” She shivered gently. “I can't wait.”

Soon they were skin to skin, his hips nestled between her knees. Abbie arched and moaned as Ichabod’s hands and mouth roamed over her body. 

“You're even more beautiful than I imagined,” Ichabod whispered hotly as his lips explored the underside of her breasts.

Abbie gasped softly for breath as his mouth hungrily moved down her stomach. She gripped the bedding beneath her in anticipation of having his mouth between her legs again. Only this time she'd get to watch him as he feasted. 

“Good Lord,” he murmured, his fingers gently stroking her slit. The eyes that met hers were heated, full of mischief, and made her heart skip several beats. “You're already positively sodden.”

He placed soft kisses just above her mound then tasted her skin. Abbie moaned softly, twisting her hips, trying to get him where she wanted him. Instead, he gave her a cocky little smirk.

Abbie pouted. “It'd be a real shame if someone was hungry or thirsty and you're just letting things go to waste…”

“Not wasting,” Ichabod replied. “Savoring.” With that, he gave her core a slow lap with a broad stroke of his tongue. His eyes rolled back as he groaned indulgently. He lifted his head and licked his lips. “Positively divine…”

“You're an evil, evil man,” Abbie whimpered as he took his time circling her clit with the tip of his tongue.

His eyes gleamed wickedly as he teased her with his fingers and tongue. Abbie's back arched as two of his fingers slid inside of her, pumping gently in time to the gentle tug of his lips on her clit. After a moment both of his hands moved to press her thighs around his face as he gorged himself like pussy was his favorite meal and she had invited him to an all you can eat buffet.

Abbie couldn't stop the moans both loud and soft that slipped through her lips. 

“Ichabod! Oh God… oh God…” she panted helplessly, gripping a fistful of his hair. Her head fell back as her body began to jerk and spasm with completion. 

Ichabod kissed his way up her body, ending at her lips. He rested his forehead against hers. 

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling her skin.

She could only nod weakly, her body still in the throes of orgasm. Abbie reached for the condoms that she had put on the bed and found his hand instead. He entwined his fingers with hers and kissed her deeply.

When he sat back on his heels, Abbie wondered what the hell was going on. But then he fumbled with one of the condom packets. She watched him, a small smile on her lips, her eyes following every move his hands made. 

Her breath hitched when his hands reached his cock. While he wasn't a monster, he was by no means average, and Abbie wondered if he'd fit. She was a tiny woman after all. Just like the rest of him, he was _big._ Just needlessly and hopelessly _huge_.

Abbie licked her lips and spread her legs. 

“What are you waiting for, baby?” His gaze snapped to her belly and then to her eyes. “This pussy ain't gonna fuck itself.”

“My muse,” he whispered, rolling the condom on. He wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. His gaze moved over her again and she could see fire welling in his eyes. “My beautiful angel…”

A loud gasp ripped between Abbie's lips, her fingers fisting the blankets beneath her, as he pushed inside of her. Her heels dug into the bedding and she arched her hips to receive him. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned softly, wanting nothing more in that moment to feel him filling her.

“Good Lord,” Ichabod groaned. He had imagined making love to his mysterious woman so many times and in so many ways. But _this_ , the reality, was by far greater than his pitiful imagination. He leaned down to kiss her warm, luscious lips as he sheathed himself inside of her. She whimpered softly into his mouth, her fingernails scratching down his sides as her hips thrust up against him.

“Ichabod,” Abbie panted, her head falling back. He looked down at her and a smile spread across her face. “Perfect fit,” she whispered.

_So perfect, too perfect._

His hand slipped around her body, resting at the small of her back as he braced himself over her with his other. For ages he had longed for her and here she was in his arms at last. He watched every gentle flinch on her face, memorized every sigh and bite of her lip as he withdrew slowly and plunged back into the hot embrace between her thighs.

Every little gasp was like a sweet heavenly hymnal. He stored it all away in his mind, just in case… just in case she left him once the obstruction of ice and snow were gone. Just in case these precious hours together were just a fleeting moment.

Abbie kissed his neck and gripped his arms as his thrusts became deeper and harder. She whimpered his name as she felt pleasure coiling up inside of her. How could this man be making her feel so good so quickly? She tried to tell her body to slow down and relax, hell, it was verging on embarrassing how eagerly she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and how she couldn’t stop her moans.

“No, dearest,” Ichabod said lowly as he kept his stride. “I want you to sing.”

Abbie’s resolve crumbled. Normally she kept her vocal side shoved down deep--not really a problem when most of her lovers had been lackluster at best. But Ichabod? Abbie threw her head back and screamed in appreciation as he rubbed over that spot inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she panted, tossing her head and groaning. “Why are you so big?” she wailed.

Ichabod swallowed hard when Abbie grabbed his ass. He held her gaze as he set a brutal pace, biting his lip at the sensation of her surrounding him. 

“You want this?” he rasped as Abbie’s body arched to take him. “Tell me how much you want it, Abigail.”

Her head thrashed side to side as she made some of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard from a lover. Her fingers bit into the flesh of his ass and she blurted, “I want all of it! Oh God, oh God, don't stop… don't stop baby.”

For several minutes, the only sound in the cabin was the wet smack of their bodies crashing together, wet kisses, and their grunts and groans of exertion, punctuated by the gentle crackle of the fire.

Abbie made a small strangled sound as her body trembled. She gasped for breath, clawing at Ichabod's arms and back as she saturated his thighs and the bedding beneath them. An ungodly yowl ripped from her lips as she arched and thrashed beneath him.

Watching his beautiful maiden in the throes of ecstasy is all it took for Ichabod to stumble in his rhythm. His thrusts became erratic as he felt the telltale tightening in his balls. Her walls throbbed around his cock. Moments later his eyes rolled back as he spent himself into the latex barrier between them.

Ichabod kissed his lover soundly between ragged pants for breath. Her tiny hands cupped his face as she returned it. When he pulled back again, she fluttered her lashes sweetly. 

“Am I really your muse or do you say that to all the girls?”

“You have been my muse from the very beginning,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers. “You are why I return here every time I need inspiration.”

Abbie hummed softly and entwined her fingers behind his neck. 

“This whole sharing body heat thing is pretty nice.” She squeezed his hips with her knees.

“But? I'm sensing a 'but’,” Ichabod commented.

“I need the facilities again,” Abbie chuckled.

Ichabod yelped softly and lifted his weight up enough that he could grasp the base of the condom and slip out of her. She wriggled free and scampered to the bathroom, naked and squealing about the cold.

While she was indisposed, he disposed of the condom and retrieved the wash basin from near the window. Normally it was just an ornamental piece but it could very much be used for its intended purpose.

He stirred the pot that contained only water then dipped some of it's warm contents into the basin. He stoked the fire and watched in amusement as a petite streak zipped from the bathroom and dove under the covers.

“Aren't you cold?” Abbie asked, shivering as she peered out with only her eyes showing.

“I'm positively frigid,” Ichabod replied with a bemused grin. He shook his head. “I thought, perhaps, you would enjoy a small clean up as it were.”

“I cleaned up in the bathroom,” she said softly. “It was cold as hell. But thanks for the offer. I'm sure I'll have plenty of chances in the near future to have a warm sponge bath from you.”

One corner of Ichabod's mouth upturned and he nodded.

“I have spent the last few years devising the many things I would enjoy doing to you if I was fortunate enough to get the nerve up to approach you. If you were willing, of course “

Abbie sat up, letting the blanket fall away. Now that she was warm, the heat from the fire was more than sufficient. As was the heated gaze Ichabod had pinned her with. 

“Show me,” she said softly.

In half a second there was a very naked man crawling toward her and Abbie thought it was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. More so since he was definitely focused on her. Her heart leapt into her throat the moment his lips brushed hers.

Abbie yelped as his hands spanned her waist and he lifted her onto the small sofa, covered with a quaint quilt. She laughed as he clambered onto the sofa and lay down, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in the back of her neck, cuddling as close as he could.

His hand drifted lazily over the skin of her stomach, light as a feather. Abbie swallowed hard as he made a broad circle on her belly with his hand, as though he were imagining it was gently sloped with child. _His child._

Ichabod's hand drifted up to cup her breast, gently squeeze it, and he lightly pinched her nipple. The sensation shot straight to between Abbie's legs, which she pressed together to soothe the gentle ache.

His other arm slid behind her and brought her closer as the wandering hand glided downward. Abbie's legs parted of their own volition and Ichabod's hand cupped her mound, the tips of his fingers parted her folds to gently tease her clit.

“I wish only to give you pleasure,” he whispered against her neck. “Always…”

Abbie was almost embarrassed by how quickly his fingers conjured the wet sounds of her arousal from her body. Almost. It was considerably hard to feel embarrassed with your head thrown back, shouting out to the heavens.

Her legs quivered, her toes curled, her heels dug into the sofa as she arched toward the fingers that were rapidly pumping into her. Abbie wrapped her arm around Ichabod's head as his lips and teeth grazed the side of her breast. His own breath was coming in short, fast puffs, tickling her skin with warmth, battling with the cold of the room.

Ichabod's mouth latched onto her nipple. He laved it with his tongue then gently tugged with his teeth. When his lustful eyes met hers, Abbie couldn't hold back any longer. She came and she came hard.

She sobbed his name as her body twisted and thrashed against his unrelenting fingers. He pressed them deep, rubbing her clit with his thumb, drawing out her orgasm until she collapsed bonelessly in his embrace. 

When he finally withdrew, Abbie watched, panting, as he brought his three middle fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. Her eyes widened. 

_Three. He had been using three fingers._

Abbie shifted around so she was facing him. Her fingers drifted down his chest and stomach. She wrapped her hand around his mostly aroused cock. Ichabod removed his fingers from his mouth and looked down to where she had a hold of him.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly. A small smile was on his face as she got him onto his back and started kissing her way down.

“If you don't know…” Abbie hummed, perching herself between his knees.

His breath hitched as she placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock. She felt him twitch and kept her eyes locked on his as her tongue swirled around the head before taking him into her mouth.

“Abbie,” he groaned, head falling back.

She tried not to grin, bobbing her head up and down his length slowly, creating a wet vacuum with her mouth. What Abbie couldn’t wrap her lips around she fisted, squeezing gently and in time to her movement. In seconds Ichabod’s breathing changed and Abbie could see the muscles in his stomach flex beneath his skin as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into her ministrations. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ichabod swore lowly, mesmerized as Abbie released his cock with an audible pop before swirling her tongue around his sensitive head. His hips jerked as she kept up the rhythmic pressure at the base of his dick.

“It’s time to find out what you like,” Abbie purred, her hands stroking faster now as she ran her thumb through the precome continually beading at the head, using it to lubricate her grip as she pumped his cock.

He writhed and squirmed as she stroked him, varying the tightness of her grip and speed of her strokes. When she found the sweet spot, she cupped his balls and flicked her tongue around the head. He let out a string of obscenities but kept his eyes locked on her. Abbie pulled back with a smirk and sat back on his knees.

“What… why did…” Ichabod murmured, looking at her helplessly. He sucked in a breath as she plucked the box of condoms from between his feet and removed one. “Oh… well… by all means, madam…” 

Abbie rolled the condom onto his cock then gracefully whirled around to face away from Ichabod. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was greedily licking his lips. She tapped the tip of his cock gently. 

“I'm going to need you to keep your eyes right here, baby.”

“Oh, yes,” she heard Ichabod growl as she nestled the tip of his cock between her folds. She was still so wet he slipped inside of her with ease.

“Shit,” she hissed. Every part of her was still hypersensitive. Her walls fluttered and flexed around his thick shaft almost immediately. If it was possible, it felt like he had gotten _bigger._ Whether that was the case or not, it felt damn good as Abbie rocked against him, pushing him in deeper with each backward stroke.

“Good… Lord,” Ichabod groaned.

“You like that, don't you baby?” Abbie asked, lifting herself to the point he almost slipped out of her. She slowly slid back down, rotated her hips gently once he was fully inside of her again. “You like watching your big dick disappear inside of me?”

Ichabod made a strangled sound and he gripped her hips, guiding her up and down on his cock. 

“God, feels so good,” Abbie whimpered. She leaned forward rested her palms on his thighs, giving him a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out of her. Abbie could feel him hitting her spot just right.

Ichabod grasped her hips and pulled her flush against him and thrust upward into her body several times. Abbie saw stars as she jerked and thrust her hips against his in return. Next she knew, her stomach was on the cushions and Ichabod was braced over her, his lips at her ear.

“Enough about what I like,” he rasped. “Let's get back to the important things--like making you come hard.”

Abbie had a witty retort at the ready this time, she truly did. However, when Ichabod began to glide in and out of her rapidly, she lost all sense of how to form words other than expletives and “oh, my God". She gripped the quilt underneath her and angled her hips.

Ichabod grasped her shoulders, hitting that perfect spot inside of her over and over until she came with a low, grunted sound. But he didn't relent, not even when she started twisting and thrashing as she rode out the waves. Instead he released her shoulders. One hand went to her hip. The other gave her ass a firm swat before resting on her other hip.

“I’m going to make you come, my love. Over and over,” Ichabod growled, thrusting deep. “Until you've forgotten the name of every lover you've had but me.” He leaned over her, one hand resting on the arm of the sofa. “Until you forget your name.”

Abbie nodded and sobbed, “Oh, God yes. Do it. Do it, Baby.”

“Then I'm going to feast myself between your thighs until my face is covered with your essence,” Ichabod groaned softly. “I'm going to make you writhe and beg for me to stop making you come.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Abbie whimpered. Her hips thrust back against him, whirling in gentle circles as he pressed deeper, holding himself against her spot. After a moment, a sobbing sound ripped between her lips and her entire mind body and soul spasmed.

“Mmm, yes my love,” Ichabod growled. “Keep coming for me. Let me feel your body coming for me.” She felt his free hand slide down her belly and he strummed her clit.

Abbie howled as he made her body go into another fit of uncontrollable movements. Ichabod gave a soft but filthy chuckle. 

“That's right, love,” he purred. “Come for me. Come for me and I'll continue to fuck you so good.”

He began to withdraw slowly. “Don't!” Abbie blurted. “Don't stop!”

Ichabod thrust back in. It felt like an explosion set off deep inside her. It was more than stars she saw this time. It felt like the heavens had opened up and angels sang as they carried her into the shimmering vacuum where space and time no longer held any meaning.

When she finally returned to earth she was aware of her surroundings again, Abbie realized she was cuddled up to Ichabod's chest. His arms were cradling her to his body and they were buried in the layers of blankets and cushions on the floor.

“ - and I couldn't get you out of my head,” Ichabod was softly saying. It was as though he wasn't certain she would hear but didn't mind if she did. “And as I said, a lot of times I will see someone and they will trigger a small fantastical tale of what they do and who they are. With you, that tale became Diana.”

Abbie shifted her face and realized she was laying in a puddle of her own saliva. Ichabod grew quiet then gave a soft, “Abigail?”

She hummed softly. 

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, his hand gently stroking her hair.

Abbie nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“I am becoming quite concerned that you have twice fainted,” he murmured.

She lifted her head and smiled. 

“Stop giving the kinda dick that makes a girl ascend and maybe I wouldn't.” Abbie's head dropped weakly back into the cocoon of Ichabod's embrace. “Am I really the inspiration for Diana Fyne?”

“You are,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

Abbie hummed again and felt herself smile before drifting back to sleep.

~*~

The fire was roaring, and it got warm enough for them to venture into Ichabod’s huge tub to soak in some probably unhealthily hot water. Ichabod was in heaven though, as he leaned back against Abbie, her chest pressed against his back as she gently soaped his shoulders and neck. 

“Your hands are magic,” he groaned, tilting his head so she could work at a knot on his shoulder.

Abbie chuckled, tightening her legs’ grip on his waist. The tub is so big and deep she feels like she’s going to float away given the chance. “I’ve been told that before,” she said, digging her thumb into the base of Ichabod’s shoulder. 

“Usually I see knots like this in people with bad posture but you’re the poster boy for good posture,” she joked.

“Ah,” Ichabod groaned as she rubbed over a sore spot. “I am guilty of slouching in the throes of authorial frenzy,” he said.

“Is that often?” she asked as she rubbed the area gently, dipping her hand back into the water to pour over his shoulder.

“Not as often as I would like recently,” he admitted. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried,” Ichabod said, surprising himself. He didn’t like to talk about his writing outside of a editorial aspect - the emotional and mental drain of having a best-selling series is something no one outside of a therapist wanted to hear. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Abbie said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push, but I’m asking because I care.”

Ichabod sighed heavily. How could he refuse his muse when she was everything he had imagined and more? 

“Inspiration is a fickle mistress,” he said. “When it comes, it’s so ephemeral that by the time I am able to put pen to paper - or fingers to keyboard as it is - it has long since fled my grasp.”

Abbie hummed. “I can see how that’s a problem. But you’ve had writer’s block before, right?”

“I have,” he agreed.

“What did you do to break those spells?” 

Ichabod smiled as he remember the last time; he had been going out of his mind trying to figure out how Diana was to break herself free of her captors and save the hostages, and nothing seemed to work. He had gone into town and by sheer luck had seen Abbie dressed in her sheriff uniform, one hand on her belt and the other pointed in the face of a man at least a foot taller than her. 

They were on the side of the road, Abbie having pulled the man over for some infraction. Ichabod watched as the man became belligerent, swiping at Abbie’s finger in his face. She acted immediately, grabbing his hand and twisting it around his back and slamming him against the car with her knee in his back. 

Ichabod still remembered how shocked he was at how easily she handled the man. Obviously he was underestimating Diana. He turned on his heel and went back to the cabin and wrote the third book in the series, Laughing at the Dark.

“I saw you,” he murmured, rubbing her ankle gently. 

“It’s probably more to it than that,” Abbie said. 

Ichabod turned over, sloshing water onto the floor in the process. Abbie grinned brightly as he placed a feather light kiss on her lips. 

“You underestimate me when I say you are my muse.” Another kiss, this time on her forehead. “You have danced upon the edges of my mind for the last four years, weaving a tale that has touched and rocked my soul to its core.”

Abbie squealed with laughter as Ichabod gathered her into his arms and turned over again. Her arms wrapped around his neck as water flooded over the edge of the tub once more. 

“You're going to ruin your floor!” she laughed.

He hoisted her up against him enough he could rest his head upon her breasts and sighed with contentment. 

“It has built in drainage,” he touted. “The only thing I will be ruining tonight is…”

“Me?” Abbie asked hopefully.

“You,” Ichabod chuckled, placing a kiss at the hollow of her throat.

“Mmm. Promises, promises,” she teased in response, running her wet fingers through his hair. She shivered lightly as he placed more kisses on the flat span of skin above her breasts. “It's getting chilly again.”

Ichabod cocked a brow. “Perhaps it's time to get warmed up again and resume your ruining.”

“I like how you think,” Abbie replied with a nod.

She held onto Ichabod tightly as he stood, letting the water drain off of them for a moment before stepping out and carrying her to the heap of blankets in front of the fire.

Their lovemaking was a mix of playful and intense, gentle and hard, and by the time Abbie was sleeping peacefully in his arms, Ichabod couldn't help but think he had completely fallen in love with his beautiful muse.

He watched as she sucked in a gentle breath and softly snored. Her face flinched into a scowl for a brief moment and she murmured something that sounded vaguely like “I will fucking fight you.”

Ichabod laughed softly and kissed her cheek. Her face immediately softened and she snuggled closer to him. It was then that inspiration sparked at the most woefully timed moment. He wanted to lie in the bedding with his beloved, but his head was already racing and teeming with ideas.

He grumbled a string of swears and carefully eased out of Abbie's embrace. After tucking blankets around her snuggly and kissing her temple, Ichabod went to the bedroom to retrieve his laptop and the extra battery.

He was in for a long night.

~*~

Abbie wasn't sure what to think when she awoke alone, wrapped up like an Abburrito. She distinctly recalled falling asleep in front of the fire, to Ichabod holding her and stroking her skin. But the fire had died down to embers and Ichabod was nowhere to be found.

After a moment she became aware of two distinct sounds: the hum of central heat and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on computer keys. She rolled over and saw Ichabod sitting cross-legged on the sofa, computer in his lap, typing furiously. His brow was knit tight as he concentrated on the screen in front of him. Thick, horn rimmed glasses were steadily slipping down his nose. A forgotten cup of tea was perched on the cushion next to him. He was wearing just a pair of old flannel pajama pants and socks.

The power must have returned because his laptop was plugged into an extension cord that, in turn, plugged into an outlet. Which meant it was only a matter of time before the roads were clear enough for -

Abbie startled at the sound of a knock. Ichabod didn't even seem to notice. He simply reached for the cold cup of tea, touched the edge of the cup, then brought his hand back to the keys, leaving the tea still forgotten.

Ichabod muttered softly in contemplation, his fingers flicking gently at his side until the word came to him. 

Another knock. This time it was accompanied by, “This is Detective Luke Morales with Westchester County Sheriff's Department.*

Abbie grunted and grabbed the first shirt she could find, which coincidentally was Ichabod's, and pulled it on. This seemed to draw his attention from his writing. He smiled affectionately. 

“Good morning, Treasure.”

“Good morning,” Abbie replied as she drew herself to her feet. “I'll get the door before they bust it down.”

Ichabod blinked with confusion and jumped when Luke knocked again. Abbie laughed and made her way to the door as Ichabod untangled himself from power cords and the laptop. He swore as his cup of tea tipped over.

Abbie unlocked the door and pulled it open. She squinted against the assault of morning sunlight reflecting off of the snow. Luke blinked at her in confusion then grinned.

“The cavalry has arrived to rescue you, pretty lady,” Luke greeted cheerfully.

Ichabod seemed to magically materialize next to her, a possessive hand on her hip as he nuzzled her cheek and kissed below her ear. The effect was immediate. She smiled and Luke scowled.

“I'll make us breakfast,” Ichabod said softly. He beamed at Luke. “Will you be joining us, Detective…” he squinted at Luke's tag. “Morales?”

Luke glanced between the two of them as Abbie turned to pat Ichabod's unclothed chest. 

“He won't be long, baby.” She almost laughed when Ichabod puffed his chest and gave Luke a smug smile before wandering off to make breakfast.

“Am I… interrupting something?” Luke asked.

Abbie shrugged with one shoulder. 

“A little,” she said, glancing over at Ichabod.

Luke cleared his throat and his scowl deepened. 

“They've got a tow truck getting the cruiser,” he said dispassionately. "Corbin had them plow a path just so we could get out here to you. Not sure how long until the roads are open. If you want to go home, now would be the time.”

Abbie glanced toward Ichabod. He had slowed his movements in preparing breakfast. He was trying not to look her way as he stared blindly at the items before him. However she caught his eyes and she could see a trace of hurt before he quickly went back to his task.

“Give me about ten minutes, okay?” Abbie asked Luke. He nodded and turned on his heels to stalk away. She closed the door and turned toward Ichabod. “They made a special path so I could get home.”

Ichabod didn't look up, merely nodded. “It would be wise to make an exit whilst you can.”

Abbie's heart ached at the hurt in his tone. She walked over and tucked herself under his arm, hugged him around the waist. 

“You could come with me. My place is warm and cozy. I mean, not like _here_ but -”

“I shall pack a bag immediately,” Ichabod chimed. He turned enough to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. He stepped away, beaming proudly once again as he returned the food items to his refrigerator. “I do hope you are prepared for the task of dealing with a writer in the throes of creative inspiration…”

Abbie couldn't help but grin. 

“Well, we'll see. But I'm sure I'll be getting plenty of practice soon enough,” she dared to venture. “Maybe?”

Ichabod paused and whirled toward her, his eyes glimmering with affection. 

“Yes. Yes, you shall.” He bounded around the cabin collecting tins of tea, a pot, and his laptop. He looked around questioningly. 

“I cannot wait to introduce you to Angelina and Charlotte. I'm certain they will adore you. They're practically family. Like my sisters… if said sisters took it upon themselves to assert themselves in a matronly role in my life… I'm forgetting something...”

Abbie bit her lip to keep from giggling. 

“Clothes. Shoes. Toothbrush.” She walked over to him and started setting the various items in his arms on the table. “I'll get this stuff organized. You go make a bag that can last a few days. Ten minutes.”

Ichabod took her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her lips. 

“I need only five.” He then dashed away to get the essentials.

~*~ Epilogue ~*~

Ichabod gnawed on his thumb knuckle as he watched Abbie. He had been watching her for the past day, each time she picked up the hardback book he had presented to her that morning. He had watched every widening of her eyes, every startled gasp, every moment where she absolutely had to set it down and step away to breathe.

Of course, he was doing his best to not make it look like he was watching her. He was just doing a terrible job of it. Abbie had refused to read the new Diana Fyne novel until it was done. So he had asked Charlotte to make certain he received the first copy. That copy now belonged to his beloved Abigail, complete with an inscription that took up the entire dedication page telling her how much he loved her and how she inspired him.

Angelina and Charlotte had adored Abbie, as he had known they would. Though both admitted they thought he had made her up. The fans were hit and miss when it became public knowledge that they were dating. Some were over the moon when he admitted Diana Fyne existed because of Abbie. 

Others were not so polite. But those so-called fans didn't matter. He loved Abbie with his entire heart and soul.

“Oh, my God,” Abbie squeaked, curling her legs to her chest. She let out a small shriek as she threw the book to the other end of the sofa. She fanned her face, her eyes brimming with tears. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

Ichabod puffed out his chest and scurried over to join her on the sofa. He picked up the book as she snuggled to his side. Slowly, Ichabod turned to the final page.

_The sun pierced the horizon, bringing light into the world once again. Diana stared at the shadowed figure of the displaced colonial soldier on the porch. He had just turned the ghostly witch that had been acting as her guide thus far in this Apocalypse into ash because she had dared to attack her. The ghostly witch that had been the spirit of his late wife._

_She knew without any doubts that an entirely new Captain Timothy J. Mison stood before her. He was a man out of time, living on borrowed minutes, who had just been forced to accept there was no returning to his home, his time period, and that he was the second witness she had been searching for._

_With tentative steps, Diana approached him. His hand immediately reached back and slid around her own much smaller one. He squeezed her fingers gently then gazed down at her with surprising softness in his crystalline eyes._

_She sucked in a deep breath of crisp autumn air._

_“You ready, Captain?” she asked._

_“As long as we are each other's side, Lieutenant, I am prepared for anything,” Timothy replied softly, his rich British burr sending shivers down her spine._

_Diana rested her cheek on his arm and felt herself smile. Another tribulation done. Three more to go. But this time Diana had the assurance that the remaining fight would not be one she had to face alone._

_To be continued…_

Just below that, Ichabod had written a question: <>Will you marry me?

Perhaps they had only been together for six months, but he knew without a doubt that he wished to spend his life with Abbie. And she had said yes.

“Are you ready for the midnight release party?” he asked.

Abbie dabbed her eyes with his shirt and nodded. 

“Yes. Yes. Let's go. The fans are going to love it.” She sat back and peered up at him. “Just please tell me Diana and Timothy get to have a ton of hot sex in the next book. Because, quite frankly, I feel like I've had a lot of foreplay with no release right now.”

Ichabod nuzzled her cheek. 

“We shall see where my muse takes me,” he whispered.

“If we didn't have this midnight release party to get to, your muse would be taking you to the bedroom and giving you a few ideas for Timothy and Diana,” Abbie murmured, clasping her fingers behind his neck.

“Technically as long as we are there before midnight…” Ichabod suggested with a wicked leer. 

“Hmm the bookstore is ten minutes away, it's nine o'clock…” Abbie hummed. “Let's go celebrate getting engaged.”

Ichabod leapt to his feet and pulled Abbie to her feet. He then hoisted her over his shoulder and gave her bottom a playful swat. “One must make certain their muse stays happy.”

And with that, he carried her off to the bedroom.


End file.
